


Old Habits

by bayoublackjack



Series: Love in London [9]
Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Makeup Sex, Multiple Crossovers, POV Joan Watson, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayoublackjack/pseuds/bayoublackjack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their quest to save their marriage, Joan and John fall into some old habits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits

Joan wasn’t sure why she felt so nervous.  This wasn’t just any man coming round for a date.  This was John, her husband and the man that she loved. Still, she couldn’t help feeling anxious.  She must have changed her clothes seven times before settling on a skirt and the jumper he had bought her for her birthday.  Her hair was an area of contention as well.  Up.  No, down.  Half up?  Definitely down.

Maybe it was because she knew a lot was riding on tonight.  This was the first time that they’d be completely on their own in months.  Therapy was going well and, on the doctor’s suggestion, they had agreed to try dating each other again.  So essentially, the entire future of their marriage hedged on the outcome of their “first” date.

There was a knock on the door.  John was early, but he usually was.  Maybe it was a military thing, but as long as she had known him, he’d never been late for anything.  Joan checked her reflection one last time and moved over to the door.  Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and opened the door.

“John,” she greeted him with a smile.

She noticed him check her out before meeting her gaze.  “You look incredible.”

“I wasn’t sure where we were going so I tried to pick something that would work for any occasion.”

John breathed and looked her over again.  “Well done.”

“So…”  Joan picked up her coat and John helped her put it on.  “Where are we going?”

“I thought we could recreate our first date,” John answered.

“Drinks in Leicester Square?”

“Yes,” John responded with a nod.  “Also dinner and maybe a stroll afterwards.  Is that alright?”

“Perfect actually.”

“Shall we?”

Joan picked up her purse and linked her arm through his.  John glanced down at their arms then smiled at her.  She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and he patted her hand with his free one.

So far so good.

The nerves began to melt away as they walked and by the time they reached the wine bar and finished their first bottle, she wasn’t sure why she was ever nervous to begin with.  John was funny and charming without any sign of the recent bitterness or hostility.  And even though the majority of their conversation revolved out their adventures with the two Sherlocks, Joan felt secure in the fact that John’s attention was fully centred upon her.

Joan reached across the table to take his hand when he set his wine glass down.  “I missed this.”

John covered her hand with his free one and she topped the pile off with her other one.  “Drunken conversation?”

“Yes.”  Joan laughed.  “And your smile and your laugh.  I’ve missed you, John.  I’ve missed us.”

John nodded.  “So have I.”

Joan stroked his uppermost hand and he allowed his thumb to escape the pile in order to reciprocate.  “I haven’t told Sherlock yet, but I’ve been thinking that I’d like to stay in London.  At least for a while longer.”

“How much longer?”

“I don’t know.”  Joan traced the veins on his hand with a finger.  “For the foreseeable future.”

“We still have one of those, right?” he asked with hope in his voice.

Joan met his eyes.  “I like to think so.”

“What do you see happening?”

“You and me, like this.  No fighting.  No lawyers.”

“No Sherlocks?”

“Not in our marriage,” Joan answered.  “They’ll still be in our lives, of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“Think we could find a way to keep them occupied and out of our personal lives?”

“Permanently?  I seriously doubt it.”  John paused.  “For starters, yours is living in our home.”

“He wouldn’t be if he went back to New York.”

John looked surprised.  “Could you handle him being in another city let alone on another continent?” he asked seriously.  “Could he?”

“I’d be worried,” Joan confessed.  “His sobriety is important to me and I’d hate to trigger a relapse, but I have faith in him.  And he has support in New York.  He has Captain Gregson and Detective Bell and Alfredo to keep him on the straight and narrow.”

“But you’d prefer him to stay, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, wouldn’t you?”  She questioned.  “If the tables were turned, could you live in New York with Sherlock left behind in London?”

John nodded.  “It’s hard to imagine.”

“Ideally, Sherlock could move to Baker Street with his brother, but….”

“They’ll kill each other,” John supplied.

“And drive poor Mrs. Hudson insane,” Joan agreed.

John smirked.  “She has her herbal supplements to calm her nerves.”

“I nearly forgot about those.”

“I remember she liked having you around the flat,” John commented.

“Yea, because I treated her like a landlady and not a housekeeper,” Joan replied.

When she and Sherlock had first decided to make their stay in London more permanent, 221B had been the ideal situation.  Sherlock rarely slept and spent most of his time perusing his brother’s clue wall, picking up cases from DI Lestrade or visiting Molly in the morgue.

John had taken Sherlock’s old room and given Joan his.  In retrospect, she realised it was his way of preserving Sherlock’s memory.  The arrangement was short lived though.  Soon, the two of them began spending more and more time together.  Her room, formerly his room, became their room and then once they were married they found a place of their own.  Then when his Sherlock came back, John returned to Baker Street and Joan’s Sherlock moved in with her.

After the wine, they had a light dinner followed by a stroll through the square.  John held her hand the whole time up until the moment he walked her to her front door.  “This was fun,” he said warmly.

“Definitely,” Joan agreed with smile.

John looked down at their hands, fingers still intertwined.  “I’m not sure I want it to end,” he confessed.

Joan squeezed his hand.  “Does it have to?”

John looked up in response to her question.  “What about Sherlock?” he asked.

Joan shook her head.  “He’s out for the night.  He promised to give us some space.”  She paused.  “And yours?”

John shrugged.  “Engrossed in something probably.”

“Do you want to come in?” Joan asked.  “For a cup of tea…”

“I wasn’t thinking about tea,” John joked.

Joan laughed.  “Dessert?”

“We had dessert with dinner.”

“That’s not the type of dessert I was talking about.”

“Really?  On the first date?”

“Not usually, but I’m willing to make an exception if the guy is special.”

“Is he?”

Joan nodded.  “Extremely.”

John smirked.  “Lucky sod.”  He leaned forward and kissed her.  It was soft and gentle, just like the first time he had ever kissed her.  And like that first time, Joan found herself wanting more.

They broke apart long enough for her to let them inside.  Once the door was closed, they were snogging again with more vigour.  Joan took the stairs one by one, pulling him with her.  At each interval, their lips met again until finally they reached the top and the two of them wrapped their arms around each other.

It was amazing how quickly you could fall back into the routine of something.  Joan and John hadn’t been intimate in months, but just like that they were seamlessly right back into the habit like they had never stopped.

There was no awkward bumbling like their first time.  And although there was urgency in their movements, the exchange was smooth.  They worked together like a well-oiled machine.  Coats off.  Scarves next.  Shoes as well. Then jumpers, shirts, skirt, trousers, tights and socks.  They were both down to their underwear by the time they hit the mattress and even those were off soon enough.

The thing about doctors was that they were good with their hands.  Surgeons were even better.  John’s military career had prevented him from completing the full requirements of his core training program and he never sat for the MRCS exam, but even without the official seal of approval, Joan knew from his hands alone what he was capable of.  He might have been a general practitioner professionally, but in that moment his fingers worked with surgical precision.  He knew exactly how she liked to be touched and did so repeatedly in long, languid strokes.

Once she reached her peak, he wasted no time moving to position himself for the final stage of their long awaited reunion.  The weight of his body on top of her was a delicious reminder of their first time together.  After that initial interlude, they quickly realised that they preferred the results when she took control, but for now she let him lead the way.

“Bugger all,” John groaned loudly against her shoulder.

“What?” Joan asked with a pant.

John looked at her.  “I don’t have anything.”

Joan frowned and stared at her nightstand.  She was certain that she didn’t have any form of protection either.  They had exhausted their supply of condoms long before the breakup and never took the time to replenish them.  “Neither do I.”

John closed his eyes and scoffed.  “Of all the bloody times to not have one.”

“Yea, but…”  Joan paused.  “Do we _need_ one?”

John opened his eyes again.  “What?”

“It’s not like we’re strangers, John,” Joan reasoned.  “We’re still married.  We’ve gone without a condom before.”

“Yes, but the circumstances were different,” John pointed out.

“Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

“God no!” John replied quickly.  “Why?  Are you?”

“No.”  Joan shook her head.  “So we’re both clean.  What’s the problem?”

“You can get more than just an STI from sex,” John reminded her.

Joan counted softly to herself.  “We should be good.”

“The rhythm method?  That’s your suggestion Dr Watson?”  John laughed.  “Do you know how many rhythm method babies are walking around the planet?”

“I’m not going to get pregnant.”

“But you could.”

Joan shrugged.  “Would it be so terrible?”

“We already have two brats we can’t control.  Do you really want to add an _actual_ infant to the mix?”

“Honestly?  I haven’t gotten that far,” Joan told him seriously.  “At most, I can tell you what I think we should have for breakfast in the morning.”

John smirked.  “Am I staying for breakfast?”

“You can stay forever,” Joan retorted.

He slipped further between her legs.  “Stay here?”

“A little to the right.”

John placed his hand on her hip and shifted his position.  “Here?”

Joan closed her eyes and gripped his back.  “That’s it,” she answered softly.  “Stay right _there_.”


End file.
